Urbs Fati: City of Destiny
by Ascanius
Summary: With Sara Pezzini in a coma, Dawn Summers becomes the latest wielder of the Witchblade. Inheriting its responsibilities, she will find that her biggest threat may be her own self. Buffy/Witchblade crossover Part IV.
1. Chapter I

**To my readers:** Welcome to what is most likely going to be the final story in the "Urbs" series. I thought I would do some sort of future fics dealing with stuff ten and twenty years down the line, but I've decided to end things here (for now). I'm not a review junkie, but I would be happy if you guys left a few. Since I'm short on intros, let's get to the story...

_The television series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters and materials are properties of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox Television. Witchblade and all characters related are properties of Top Cow Comics and TNT Productions._

* * *

_**Tuesday, 8:16 p.m. - Slayer Base HQ**_

"Faster!"

Dawn sped up the pace as she moved to parry and strike. Buffy came at her with strike after strike with her scythe, faster than she could anticipate. She knew the Witchblade gave her an edge on an opponen'ts movements, but she remembered that she was sparring against a seasoned fighter with years of experience. Apparently, that made all the difference.

"Faster, Dawn!"

She moved the sword formed by the Witchblade around to block Buffy's attempt and then moved to an overhead strike. Buffy parried it and grabbed Dawn with her left hand. She then head-butted her, sending her sister staggering back. Blood was streaming down Dawn's nose, blood that had also found itself on Buffy's forehead. Dawn felt it with her fingers and looked at Buffy, who stood expressionless. Angry at her sister's action, Dawn ran forward with a yell and tried another overhead strike. Buffy parried yet again, to the outside, and turned her scythe upside-down. The stake end was now positioned under Dawn's chin.

"And that's why you're not patrolling with us," Buffy remarked. Buffy moved from her position and walked away, leaving a defeated Dawn downcast and disappointed.

She decided to turn in for the night, hoping that sleep would come quickly and dull the pain of failure. Dawn drifted into slumber and let all of the anxiety and tension slowly ebb away. She came to hours later to a creaking sound and looked at her alarm clock; it was still dark out. She looked for the creaking noise and saw the outline of her closet door illuminated by a shining green light. Getting out of her bed she walked towards it, slowly and anxiously. Taking a deep breath in, she opened the door. The closet was filled with swirling green light the likes of which Dawn had never seen.

As Dawn marveled at the sight, she began to see something form. First a pair of eyes, then hair, Dawn focused intently on the green figure becoming more defined. Moving a little closer to examine it, she noticed the figure also looked at her in a similar fashion. Dawn looked at face more closely and saw that it was hers. The thing looked like her. It was fascinating... until the figure's hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat.

Dawn struggled as she tried to break free. The figure, half of its body still in the closet, brought Dawn closer to its face and merely said one word.

"Mine."

And with that, Dawn was suddenly pulled into the green light and disappeared.

* * *

Dawn woke up, startled and lightly sweating. She looked around her quickly, only to see that she was still in her room. Her breathing hastened by the experience, she laid back and tried to calmed herself, which was difficult as she couldn't get the disturbing dream out of her head. What did it all mean? Was it a warning? Should she tell Buffy? Deciding that she couldn't address the issue with her mind so muddled, she decided to let it go... for the time being.

* * *

_**One week later, Wednesday, 5:20 p.m. - Slayer Base HQ**_

Two weeks had passed since Xander, Willow, and Kennedy had left. The building felt a little emptier, a little colder. It didn't help that Rupert Giles had been spending a good portion of his days visiting a still-comatose Sara in the hospital. In that time, he hadn't been as active in training the girls as before. They were understanding and were willing to give him more time to cope, but they were all beginning to wonder just how badly he was taking things.

He would leave for hours without a phone call and then show up late. Sometimes they would even smell alcohol on him. And then there were the grooming habits. The girls had seen more five-o'clock shadows in those two weeks than they had ever seen in the whole time they knew Giles, including Buffy. She was going to talk to him about it, to see if he needed any help, but he always avoided being asked or just brushed the subject off. It was fraying on everybody's nerves, particularly Buffy's.

Of course, nothing frayed on Buffy's nerves like Dawn.

Dawn Summers, sweet sister turned pseudo-Bladewieder, had been eager to test out her new 'toy'. Too eager, if anyone asked Buffy. And Buffy was more than willing to keep that urge in check by routine in-house training, something that chafed Dawn increasingly each day. The routine was well-known by then: Dawn would ask to patrol with the Slayers, Buffy would object, Dawn would protest, Buffy would counter-protest, Dawn would leave and go to her room, and Buffy would take out her frustration on the rest of the Slayers. Things would calm down for a few days, then it would start all over again.

Luckily for everyone, though, was that tonight wasn't going to be one of those nights. Dawn, who had been working at New York Metropolitan Museum of Art for an internship, had an official function that she was required to be at. Buffy, as well as everyone else, was relieved at that. For one night, the two sisters would avoid being at each other's throats and Buffy wouldn't give the Slayers more laps, more chores, or more sparring time as a result.

The night wasn't the biggest night for the museum, but it was one of them and Dawn had been preparing for most of the late afternoon getting ready. She didn't want to go, knowing that she would have to hobnob with big name donors and patrons and spend a good portion of the night smiling and butt-kissing until her lips fell off. Nevertheless, all of the interns were going to be there, so at the very least she wouldn't suffer alone. Plus, free food. That was always of the good. She looked one more time at her elegant updo hairstyle, checked her simple yet functional black dress, and headed downstairs.

"Dawn, are you ready yet?" Buffy yelled.

"Yeah, I'm coming," she quickly said back. As she walked down, Buffy whistled in approval.

"Don't you look dressed for success?" she remarked. "Just don't stutter when people talk to you."

"I hope I don't have to talk to any of them at all. From what Dr. Simmons said, these functions tend to be kinda boring. Sure, there are plenty of people really interested in art and ancient pieces of archaeology, but a lot are just around to show how much money they have."

"Still," Buffy replied, "career-wise, getting your face out there wouldn't be a bad thing. Once you get into the professional world, those connections might help you out."

"Yeah, I know." Dawn looked at her watch. "Wow, we need to get going or Dr. Simmons is gonna give me an earful."

They took one of the vans, Buffy driving Dawn to the museum. The thought of Buffy driving in New York City traffic had given her nightmares before, but her sister's time in the city had improved her skills noticeably. She actually managed to not piss off anyone else on the road on the way there. In Dawn's mind, that was progress. They stopped a little ways from the front of the museum, behind a bunch of smaller luxury cars and limousines. Dawn got out and began to head up the steps.

"Dawn, I'll be back around 10:00!" she yelled as her sister quickly moved.

"I got it!" Dawn yelled back. "See you at 10!" She entered the building and immediately went to the where the party was being held. There she saw a few of the other interns talking to each other.

"Look who's cutting it close," one woman said.

"I know, I know. Where's Dr. Simmons at, Sam?" Dawn replied.

"Right behind you, Miss Summers," a slightly annoyed voice replied. "Fess up: you're trying to send me to the hospital."

"Come on, I have one minute to spare."

"Dawn, I am trying to get a lot more money out of these people for some ambitious projects we have coming up next year. And to do that I need to show them that their money will be well spent."

"Yes, sir, I know," Dawn replied in an exasperated voice.

"Look, I know you don't want to be here either, but think of this as a way to enhance your career. I know you want to focus on ancient languages and texts, but that field is quite small and quite filled with a number of well-placed scholars. Some of these people may be able to help you out in the future. If nothing else, think of that."

"I will," she replied, feeling somewhat put in her place.

"Well, the ceremonies are about to start," Dr. Simmons remarked. "Wish me luck." Dawn looked on as he left, mentally preparing herself for a long and boring night.

"At least you don't have to suffer alone," a young man next to her said.

"Thanks, James," she said as she turned and smiled at him. She liked the boy, maybe even enough to go out with him. She found him kind of cute. A little geeky and skinny, but cute. _Maybe the night won't be so bad_, she thought.

* * *

The opening ceremonies had been thankfully brief and now Dawn was deep in the part she hated the most: the meet-and-greet. Small talk, big talk, intriguing talk, boring talk, it didn't matter; Dawn heard all of it. She had been doing it for about an hour and was relieved when she found a bench to rest herself and her aching feet. Her shoes were killing her after walking around so much. Having a bottled water in her hand she took a swig and let out a quenched sigh. A few other interns joined her on the bench looking just as haggard and then relieved at the reprieve they had found.

"Cynthia, Leslie, Derrick, and Aidan are wondering if they can slip out in the next few minutes," Samantha remarked. "I told them it's only an hour and a half and then this night is over."

"You know, we have another function coming up in two months," a girl name Deanna reminded them.

"Thanks a lot, Deanna," James replied as he massaged his ankle. "I was trying not to think about that one."

"I'm washing your mouth out with soap tomorrow," Dawn remarked, half-joking.

"Dawn..." Dr. Simmons said as he approached the group. "I want you to meet someone."

Dawn sighed. "Dr. Simmons, can you give me a few minutes? My feet are killing me."

"I really think you'll want to meet this person. He's the head of the foundation that sponsored your internship."

"Oh... wow... uh, yeah, yeah, I'd love to meet him," Dawn replied, her tune changing. Sure she didn't care to meet a lot of the people there that night, but she would never let it be said that she wasn't grateful. The pool of applicants was quite wide, from what she had heard, and she alone had been selected for the rare opportunity. The least she could do was thank the man.

"I've told him a lot about you and what your plans are for future study and he was quite eager to meet you," Dr. Simmons said as they walked toward a small group of people.

"I'm flattered," Dawn replied.

"Ah, there he is," he said. The man's back was facing them, as he was chatting with some other people who looked as if they regularly graced the cover of Forbes magazine. He was tall and slender, his long jet black hair done in a ponytail. Dawn found it a little out of place for someone who ran in these kind of circles, but chalked it up to eccentricity. Dr. Simmons tapped the tall man's shoulder.

"Sir, here's the young woman you wanted to meet."

The tall man turned around and Dawn was a bit taken back. He was exquisite, his eyes strong and mesmerizing. His features were delicate and yet sturdy, his clean-shaven face hinting at a youthful vigor. The way his clothes hung off of him only complemented his form. Rather than a man, Dawn almost felt like he belonged to the museum as a work of art. She stuck out her hand to greet him.

"Dawn Summers," Dr. Simmons said as the man returned Dawn's gesture, "I'd like you to meet Mr. Ian Nottingham."

Slowly, Dawn's smile faded away and her face bore a look of barely contained fear.

"A pleasure, Miss Summers."


	2. Chapter II

Reviews welcomed.

* * *

Amy had been defeated. Amy had been defeated and things were supposed to be better. Sure, they had been so concerned with getting Sara medical attention that they forgot about Amy's body, but Willow said she sensed nothing the week after the battle on Hart Island. If Willow said it, then that was good enough for Dawn. But they all decided to remain vigilant anyway, just in case. But things were supposed to be better now. At least that was what Dawn thought.

When she had arrived in New York, Dawn had known that she was going to be walking into a hot zone. It was no secret that Buffy didn't want her there, lest Amy turn her attention and machinations onto her. Thankfully, that hadn't been the case and her encounters with the woman were quite limited. Still, she had been thoroughly warned of the possibility that Amy would come after her and Dawn was prepared for it

What she hadn't prepared for was someone else that Buffy and Sara had warned her about, someone she had been told was not going to get involved in their problem, but someone Sara remained suspicious of. Dawn had been told explicitly that anything and everything dealing this person was to be avoided at all costs. She had filed it in the back of her mind, but never took it seriously. Until now.

Her mind swirled with a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions. The man had been told to avoid at all costs was not only right in front of her, but was head of the foundation that sponsored her internship. She stood there shocked as he shook her hand. Words seem to turn into inaudible sounds. But she was soon brought out of her stupor when Dr. Simmons gently shook her.

"Dawn..."

"Um... yes?"

"There's no need to be nervous, my dear."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she replied. "What were you saying, Mr. Nottingham?"

"Well, I was saying that I'll need my hand back."

Dawn looked down and saw she was still shaking it. She quickly, and embarrassingly, released it. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm just a little..."

"Nervous?" Ian replied. "Sometimes I have that effect. I was asking how your internship was faring."

"Good so far," Dawn replied. "However, new developments are making me realize that I'm going to have to approach things in a different way."

"Ah, but sometimes new developments can open the door to wondrous possibilities," Nottingham said back.

"Or they just make things much more difficult," Dawn retorted.

Nottingham smiled. "Indeed." He turned to Dr. Simmons and said, "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to speak with Mrs. Davenport and endure yet another request to donate some of my private collection. Dr. Simmons, Miss Summers. It's been a pleasure."

"Likewise, sir," Dr. Simmons replied. As Nottingham left, Dawn quickly let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in. "Well, that went alright," he remarked. "A little awkward for a moment, but... Dawn are you alright?"

"I'm just... just a little flustered. It's a bit stuffy in here."

"I'll get you some water," Dr. Simmons replied.

"No, no," Dawn quickly said. "I just need some fresh air." She quickly left the main party and walked toward one of the restricted areas, where most of the interns worked. Nearby, there was a balcony where anyone could view the night sky and relax a bit. Dawn breathed in the night air, the sensation cooling her insides. She couldn't believe what was happening and began to wonder how much of the situation did Nottingham truly manipulate. Did she even earn her internship? Was she qualified at all, or was it just some ploy to get her near the Witchblade?

Then there was the fact that she would have to tell Buffy about tonight's encounter. Saying Buffy would explode was putting it in the mildest possible terms.

"Trying to grasp the moment, I see," a masculine voice remarked. Dawn didn't need to turn around to see who it was, but did so anyway.

"Wondering what it all means," Nottingham continued, "and how you'll handle it."

"You could say that, Mr. Nottingham," Dawn retorted. "I'm more surprised at the fact that we all got royally duped."

"Oh, come now," Nottingham replied reassuringly. "It wasn't your fault. You were preoccupied."

"Yeah, we were," Dawn said back. "And like any good villain you took advantage of that."

"'Villain', she says," Nottingham noted. "You think I'm some sort of villain, Dawn?"

"What else would you be?"

"An opportunist. I saw a chance and I took it."

"A chance that I would put on the Witchblade and you could manipulate me," Dawn retorted. "Not gonna happen."

"Is that what you think I'm going to do?" Nottingham asked.

"No, that's what I think you're going to _try_. You won't succeed."

"You're right. I won't succeed."

Dawn paused for a moment and looked at him, confused. Normally bad guys were too confident in their own abilities, something that was usually their undoing. His response was a curveball.

"I won't succeed in manipulating you because I'm not planning to," he continued.

"Um... well... that's new," Dawn remarked. "Sara told me..."

"Lady Sara has already poisoned you against me," he interrupted, disappointment in his voice. "I am not here to manipulate you Dawn, but I do want to use the Witchblade, in a way you would most definitely approve of."

"And what way would that be?" Dawn asked skeptically.

"In a way that would help you master the Witchblade _and_ help this city. Surely you must see this is the chance of lifetime, Dawn, a chance to realize your true potential."

"Really?" Dawn replied sarcastically. "Because what I see is that me and the rest of the Slayers just got taken for a ride without even knowing it. We're not used to being made fools of. Speaking of being made a fool of, I'm wondering: did I even earn my internship, or was it all a ploy to get me to wear the Witchblade?" Her nostrils flared a bit; the notion that she was unqualified for what she thought she earned made her furious.

"Rest assured, Miss Summers, you earned this internship with your own hard work and talent," Nottingham replied.

"Is that so?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes," he replied. "However, you did have 'attributes' the other candidates did not possess."

"How do you know so much about me?" Dawn asked pointedly.

"Money and influence can allow you to obtain many secrets."

"Well, your days of getting secret info are over," she replied. "The Watchers' Council will hear about this and make sure any leaks are plugged. Giles will see to that, so I suggest you stop looking for them. And one other thing: you stay away from me. I catch you near me again and you'll find out how well I use my other 'attributes'. Good night, Mr. Nottingham." Dawn walked toward the entrance of the balcony, ready to leave Nottingham to himself.

"You're going home?" he asked.

"That's the idea," she replied.

"To inform your sister, no doubt."

"She'll want to know about this."

"And what do you think she'll do?" he asked pointedly.

Dawn quick gait slowed to a crawl, then stopped. Taking a few seconds to answer she replied, "I don't know."

"Oh, come now, Dawn, we're both intelligent people; let's not insult each other by pretending otherwise. You know exactly what she'll do." He walked around to the front of her. "Allow me to speculate: she'll make sure you don't go anywhere near me or this museum, thus forcing you to give up the internship you so rightfully earned. Then she'll make arrangements to ship you off back to Europe, out of sight and hoping to stall your progress until Sara wakes up and she can write this whole thing off as a bad memory." He smiled. "Am I off the mark?"

Dawn stood speechless.

"She's afraid of you, Dawn."

"She's... concerned. She wants to make sure I'm prepared to handle the Witchblade."

"Is that what she tells you?" Nottingham replied. "She knows you have a kind of power she can never have. And what better way to make you not use it than to tell you the old standard: it's for your own good."

Dawn stood and looked at him silently.

"She wants to contain it, to control it, but she has seen it while you've been on patrol and knows it's too strong to yield to her."

Dawn swallowed nervously and said, "Buffy hasn't exactly taken me on patrol yet, so I'm not sure what she sees about it out there..."

"Really?" Nottingham replied. "A power such as the Witchblade would aid the Slayers greatly and Buffy chooses not to use it. Interesting, wouldn't you say?"

"She's been taking the time to train me, so I won't be a danger or get killed out there."

Nottingham chuckled a bit. "Is that the idea that you comfort yourself with? That sooner or later Buffy will realize what you bring to the table and allow you to help?"

"I've helped out Buffy plenty," Dawn countered. "I've been on patrol with her before."

"As a glorified sidekick. But now you've been placed on the forefront in this war, and it worries her. The Witchblade has played many a pivotal role in the course of history, brought down kingdoms and built up empires. Now it finds itself confined to an old hotel subject to the whims of an anxious Slayer. Such a waste."

Dawn said nothing.

"She's your sister. I understand. You're reluctant to see such ill intentions in her. But the Witchblade chose you, Dawn, giving you a chance to shape history in a way Buffy never could. That always stirs up feelings of jealousy."

"You think my sister is jealous of me?" Dawn asked, unsure of the answer.

"Perhaps," Nottingham replied. "Perhaps not. Either way, she's not letting you patrol for some reason." He paused to let Dawn contemplate that idea. "I can see you're conflicted. Here's my card. Ask your sister tonight to be included on the next patrol. Try to convince her."

"And if she does?"

"Then you throw away the card and never see me again," Nottingham replied. "But if I'm right, meet me at 6:00 p.m. sharp tomorrow at that address."

"For what?"

"To realize your true destiny," he said. "This is a one-time offer, Dawn. Once the door shuts, it will never open again. Think about it." And with that, Dawn was left holding the card as Nottingham left to rejoin the party.

Dawn had taken a few minutes to contemplate Nottingham's words and then rejoined the party, the tenseness of her encounter keeping her from fully engaging in the event. Ten o'clock had come and there was Buffy, waiting outside of the museum in the van. Dawn slowly walked to it and got in. Buffy looked at her sister curiously and asked, "Everything alright?"

Dawn looked at her and replied, "Uh, yeah... yeah, I'm just really tired. Ready to get to bed."

The trip back home was quiet, quieter than Dawn wanted. A part of her wanted to tell Buffy everything that happened, to tell her that Nottingham had arranged for her to come to New York and wear the Witchblade while they were all focused on Amy. She wanted to tell her that he was getting information somehow from leaks through the Watchers' Council. But she couldn't form the words. Nottingham's warnings echoed through her mind. They pulled up to base and went in, Dawn walking upstairs. Giles had just come in as well. Dawn stopped midway and turned to her sister.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah, Dawn?"

"Can I... I mean... I'd really like to patrol with you tomorrow night," Dawn sheepishly said.

"Dawn, we've been through this..." Buffy began to say.

"But I'm ready, Buffy. I know I am. Just give me a chance."

"Dawn, I've already told you: I don't think you're ready for patrol," Buffy replied. "Why don't you give it another couple of weeks? Then we'll talk about it, okay?"

"Okay," Dawn said, letting out a disappointing sigh. As she continued upstairs, Giles approached Buffy.

"Buffy, are you sure about what you're doing? At this rate, she might never patrol."

"That's what I'm hoping for, Giles," Buffy replied. "Look, I don't want to do this, but you don't see the look in her eye when we're training. I haven't seen that look since Faith went through her little episode and it gets a little bit worse every time. Maybe I'll let her patrol with us sometime soon, but for now I want to draw this out as long as I can until Sara wakes up."

"I think you're going about this all wrong," he remarked.

"I know you think that, but we both agreed that you'd follow my lead on this. Is that still the plan?"

Giles looked at Buffy, who looked back at him with a questioning and somewhat hurt look in her eyes. Apparently, the trust issues between them had not gotten fully resolved in Buffy's mind. He wanted that trust back and so replied, "Yes, that's still the plan."

"Good," Buffy tersely replied. As the two parted they did not notice Dawn sitting at the edge of the steps, a hurt look on her face. She had heard everything. She didn't know what hurt more: that her sister didn't trust her or that she was deliberately trying to hold her back. It didn't matter. She would find a way to use the Witchblade, with or without Buffy's help.

* * *

**_Thursday, 7:36 am - 11th Precinct_****_  
_**

"Impressive record..." Captain Akins remarked.

"Thank you, sir," the woman replied somewhat anxiously.

"Then it gets 'interesting'," he continued. "I don't like it when things get 'interesting'." He closed the file and looked at the woman in his office. "I'll be honest with you: no one would have bothered looking at your application had it not been for this letter from a Mr. Angel of Wolfram & Hart recommending you for the position and this other letter detailing the circumstances that led to your firing. Some look at this file and see trouble on the horizon. I see a cop who went through some hard times and needed away from the job for awhile. Now, I'm known as a man who doesn't mind giving people second chances, but there are two things that I have never budged on in my career: having people who aren't corrupt and having people who can follow orders. From your record it seems corruption won't be a problem. It's the second part I'm wondering about. If you're going to work in this precinct, I need to know whether or not you can follow direction. If not, the door is right there."

"I can, sir," the woman replied. "I have no problem following direction. Whatever issues I had back then are behind me."

Akins looked at the woman curiously. "Good," he replied, "because I've recommended to the board that you be placed on a six-month probationary period and they've accepted. You do anything that makes me regret that recommendation and I'll see to it the only police job you'll have is a Staten Island dispatch, understand?"

"I understand, Captain Akins."

"Good then. And with that, welcome to the 11th Precinct, Detective Lockley. You start Monday."

"Thank you, sir," she replied as she stood up, shaking the captain's hand. As he walked her out of his office, a familiar voice called out her name.

"Kate?"

She turned and looked to the owner of the voice. "Jake?" she replied.

He walked up to her and hugged her lightly, prompting Danny to look on mild surprise. "It's good to see you. It's been a while. What brings you here?"

"I'm gonna be starting Monday," she said.

"I'm a little surprised you two know each other," Captain Akins remarked.

"Oh, it was, uh, some police seminar in L.A. a few years back," Jake supplied. "Kinda boring, actually."

"That it was," Kate agreed.

"Well, then it makes sense to pair you two up Monday. McCartey here will show you the ropes. I'll see you Monday, Kate."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Then I guess I'll see you Monday, too," Jake said.

"See you, Jake," Kate replied as she smiled and left.

Danny walked up to his partner and said, "You two seemed friendly."

"We went out for drinks once during the seminar," Jake replied. "It was nothing. We were just friends. Besides, she doesn't date cops. Still, though, feels weird having her here."

"Why's that?" Danny asked.

"It's kind of a odd story, man."

"Well, since I'm gonna be working with her, I'd like to know it."

Jake looked at his watch. "I'll tell you on the way."

* * *

**_Thursday, 5:54 pm - Residence of Ian Nottingham_**

Dawn walked toward the building, its imposing presence standing out in her mind. It wasn't scary or threatening; it just seemed overwhelming, like it would engulf someone such as her. She walked up to the gate and rang the bell. A servant spoke to Dawn over the intercom.

"Mr. Nottingham has been expecting you, Ms. Summers," he said, prompting Dawn's curious and questioning look. The man buzzed her in and then walked up to her.

"Okay," she replied, "color me freaked out a bit." The servant smirked at her.

He escorted her upstairs and down a hallway to the entrance of a room, closed off by two large doors. He opened the left side and motioned for Dawn to go in. Thanking him she went in and saw Nottingham sitting in a chair next to a vigorous fire. She walked toward him, saying, "Mr. Nottingham, I..."

Suddenly she was cut off by the releasing of two arrows from opposite sides of the room, one aimed at her head and the other at her waist. As quickly as they were released, she lifted up her right arm and dropped her left arm. Shielded in metal she blocked the arrow cruising toward her head and caught the one aimed at her waist. Breathing anxiously, shock written over her face, she eyed Nottingham as he rose from his chair, wine glass in hand.

"I think you're ready to begin."


	3. Chapter III

**Joe **- You're right about all of those points. I thought about that too. However, here is my reasoning: this is a new position for Buffy. Dawn is now at the forefront of the battle, instead of behind the scenes. Therefore, she is trying to be more careful of how to approach this new element. She is very apprehensive of Dawn being on the front lines, this time with more power than she has ever wielded. In addition, Dawn is smart enough to be aware of Nottingham. However, I'm also writing in how the Witchblade, combined with Dawn's own emotions and ambitions to prove herself, are slowly warping her sense of right and wrong. Basically, I'm writing a slow transformation in Dawn that will result in a serious confrontation, but one more emotional than the previous story I wrote. Feel free to ask me these types of questions. I will try and justify any reasons for what I write.

* * *

"You ready to be shown the ropes, rookie."

"Call me a rookie again and the only ropes we'll be seeing are the ones I'll be tying you to my car," Kate joked.

Jake held up his hands in mock-surrender. "Okay, okay, I just want to show you around, let you get back in the game a bit. It's been awhile."

"Yeah, but a Staten Island post gives you a little perspective on things," she replied. "I think I'll appreciate this job a little more than I did before."

"By the way, if you don't mind me asking, what really happened back in L.A.? Way I heard, you got involved with some P.I. who roughed up a police captain?"

"Not 'involved' involved, but he was helping me with a case. Look, Jake, it's complicated. Suffice it to say that while I'm grateful to him for recommending me for this job, I'll be just as happy not to see him again."

"That's kind of harsh," Jake said somewhat taken aback.

"It's not because I hate him. It's just I know that, if he's alive at all, the minute he shows up trouble is around. My life is nice and quiet compared to back in L.A. and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Quieter than a New York Detective?", he curiously asked.

"Much quieter."

**_Nine hours later..._**

"So, what do you think?" Jake asked.

"Not really all that different from LA. Some of your procedures are a little different, but I think I can get the hang of it."

"Good. Looking forward to working you, Kate."

"So, where are we headed now?" she asked.

"Need to talk to some people about an incident," he replied as that stopped in front of the building.

"Want me to come in?" Kate asked.

"No need," said Jake. "I'll just be a few minutes." As Jake stepped out of the car and walked toward the building Kate sat, curious as to what Jake was doing.

She waited about ten minutes, her curiosity increasing as each minute dragged on. Deciding to step out of the car to stretch out, she noticed two women passing on the street, one a young auburn-haired teenager. But she didn't particularly stand out to the detective. It was the other one, the blonde, who caught Kate's eye. As the two passed, the blonde noticed Kate as well and stopped. They looked at each other, both trying to draw on the memory that they were sure had made the other familiar.

Kate thought about it, the faint memory nipping at her: _Los Angeles. Small blonde. I was hauling in Angel for harboring... Faith. The blonde... she knew who he was! More importantly, she knew __**what**__ he was!_

"L.A.," Kate said. "You were there when I was hauling in Angel, weren't you, for harboring Faith?"

"That's where I know you from," Buffy replied. "Buffy Summers. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here with my new partner, Jake McCartey. I just got hired by the NYPD."

"Crap," Buffy replied.

"That your building?" Kate asked.

"Yeah," Buffy answered.

"My partner's in there, but he wouldn't tell me why. What's going on?"

"Look, Detective..." Buffy said, trying to remember the woman's name.

"Lockley, Kate Lockley." Kate answered.

"Lockley. Look, it's really hard to..."

"No," Kate interrupted. "I don't know who you are, but I know some of the people you know. I remember you being surprised that I knew Angel was a vampire. Does this have something to do with his partner, Sara?"

Buffy took a deep breath. "Yes, it does. Look, the short of it is that the girls here hunt vampires. They're like Faith, minus the murderous impulse."

"And Sara was helping you," Kate stated.

"Yeah, she was."

"I can't believe this," the detective remarked. "I am **not** getting involved with this, not one bit."

Buffy was perplexed. "Nobody's asking you to," she replied.

"Yeah, that's the way it starts out," Kate retorted. "Next thing you know you find yourself out of a job because you helped a vampire take down a crooked cop. Look, I'll try and get Jake to back off, but don't expect too much."

"Thanks, Detective,' Buffy remarked.

"I'm not doing it for you, Buffy. I'm doing it for my partner. I'm trying to spare him from looking too deep. He doesn't need to make that mistake."

Jake soon stepped out the building and noticed Kate and Buffy. He walked over to them, a somewhat playful look on his face. "Ms. Summers."

"Detective McCartey. You here for some more harassing, or you just here to ask me out?"

"Just letting you know I'm still around and I'm still watching," he replied.

"Oh, I don't doubt that, Detective," Buffy remarked.

Jake smirked. He didn't like her. He knew something was off about her and knew this Buffy was involved with Sara ending up in her coma. He just needed to prove it. He was hoping she would eventually slip up and hang herself on her own mistakes. To date, though, she was being much too careful.

"Let's go, Kate." They got into the car and drove off. As soon as they were a bit away, Jake spoke up.

"You two seemed to be getting acquainted," Jake remarked.

"I... kinda know her," Kate replied.

"Wait, you know her? How?"

"Not personally, I just know someone she knew. The private investigator out in LA that I got in trouble with? She knew him, and I think they were more than just friends."

"Good," Jake said. "Then you can help me figure out what's up with her and what it has to do with my partner."

Kate breathed in sharply. "No," she replied.

"What do you mean 'no'?" he asked pointedly.

"Jake, I'm going to tell you this for your own good: back off."

"For my own good?" Jake repeated. "What, you think I might get hurt or something?"

"Not in the way you think," she replied. "Jake, I'm telling you, you keep digging and you're not going to like what you find. I don't know the details, but I do know that if you keep going after this you'll wish you hadn't."

"And just what exactly is that supposed to mean?" he asked, irritated that she was being so vague.

"It means that when I got involved with Angel, that private investigator, I found out things that go way beyond my job description. So, I'm telling you, Jake, for your own good: back off."

Jake and Kate sat in silence for a moment, looking at each other. Jake's face bore a combined look of anger, curiosity, and frustration. She didn't want to start her new job off like this. But she knew what Jake would be stepping into, and that she wouldn't feel like a friend if she didn't at least try to warn him, even if that warning was so obscure and vague to be almost pointless.

"I'll decide when it's time to back off," he remarked, breaking the silence.

"Fine then," Kate replied. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I could be more careful if you'd let me in on what's going on with Buffy."

"I don't know everything, Jake," Kate said. "To be honest, I don't even know how this all started."

"But you know something. How can I trust you as a partner if you don't help me out with this?"

"How can I trust _you_ as a partner if you won't listen to a friend trying to protect you?"

They stared at each other again, the moments passing like hours. Kate could see the anger and frustration on his face. Her first day back as a detective was already turning out to be like one of those training videos on what _not_ to do in the workplace. But she knew she would never forgive herself if she thrust Buffy's world on him without asking if he truly wanted to know. She wasn't going to do that to him, like it was done to her, albeit accidentally.

"Fine, then," Jake said as he broke the silence. "Have it that way. But I'm going to get to the bottom of this one way or another."

She sighed. She knew where this was going to go and she could not stop it. Jake was a nice guy and all, but soon as someone got him going he was like a pit bull. "Jake, I really want you to back off but I know you. You won't let up. So I'm just going to say this again... be careful. And if you find out, I'll be around to listen, because you're going to need someone you can talk to."

Jake gave her a curious and puzzled look. "Thanks... I think".

* * *

"A training session..." Dawn remarked. "You're starting to sound like my sister."

"Would your sister send you on a training mission to destroy a vampire nest by yourself?" Nottingham asked.

"What?" Dawn replied, hardly believing what she had just heard.

"Let's get something straight, Dawn: I am not and never will be your sister. Keeping you cooped up is a waste of the Witchblade's time and ability. And it is a waste of mine."

"Understood."

"Good," Nottingham continued. "I've just acquired some old industrial land in the Bronx and plan to construct a manufacturing facility. But the problem is the nest, located nearby. I can't have the contractors..."

"Whoa, wait," Dawn interrupted, holding her hand up. "You're clearing out a vampire nest to make way for a factory?"

"Yes."

"But..."

"Somehow my actions are less noble upon learning this endeavor will make money?" he asked pointedly.

'It's just..."

"Such a shame your sister taught you to think so narrowly. You are the Bladewielder, Dawn. You have to think beyond the mission. Does your sister ever think about the lives of the people she saves _after_ she saves them?"

"I... well, they usually don't stay around. And the ones that don't run screaming tend to hug her... a lot. We don't usually keep track afterward."

"Well, I have to think bigger. The facility will create over a thousand new jobs, Dawn. So not only will you be saving lives, you'll be helping people forge new ones. People will be able to earn money to live and feed their families. But if you think such endeavors are beneath you..."

"No," Dawn quickly replied. "No, I just... never thought about it that way."

"Then it's time to grow up," Nottingham remarked somewhat pointedly. Dawn stood uncomfortably, bristling at the comment. Her sister had been too overprotective at times, but she was realizing this guy wasn't like Buffy at all. Whereas Buffy and the rest of the Scooby Gang gave out free second chances like they were Tic-Tacs, Dawn felt that Nottingham wasn't the type who left a lot of room for second chances. He wanted results.

"Point taken," she replied. "So, what's the plan?"

**_Forty-five minutes later..._**

"I can't believe this is the plan," Dawn remarked as she ventured into the night, sparsely lit by lamps adorning the streets. She approached the old, abandoned lot where the new building would be and could sense that she was close to her targets. That didn't make her any less nervous.

"What are you doing here, Dawn?" she asked herself. "Oh, I know. You're walking right into a vampire nest, at the request of some hunky-yet-somewhat-creepy guy you hardly know on the off-chance you can prove to yourself and everyone else that you can be the Bladewielder. Yeah, that sounds about right." Her heart began thumping harder and faster, her blood coursing throughout her body at a speed that only happened when the world was near ending. Her breathing was steady yet hesitant. She could feel its rhythm in her lungs, trying as best she could from turning that rhythm into a staccato.

As she moved along the broken pavement, she felt the presence of something close. More so, she began to hear it. Coming to a stop she turned around and saw three vampires, two male and one female.

"Wow," one of the male vampires said, "did _you_ walk into the wrong place tonight."

"She's kinda cute," the other male said. "Maybe we can turn her. It'll liven up the place a bit."

"Come on," the female said. "One cute walking meal and you're ready to turn her. I want to eat. We've been feeding on nothing but old bums and drunks for the last few months."

"Besides", the first male said, "we've got enough fangs down there to have a convention." He then looked at Dawn. "Looks like you get to be dinner."

Dawn then held her hand up, ready to make the vampires into debris. That is, if the Witchblade ever kicked in.

Which didn't happen.

Dawn eyes went wide open. She shook her wrist to the fiends, hoping the Witchblade would turn on soon. One of the male vampires looked at her, confused.

"Huh. Not sure what to make of that. Guess crazy is on the menu tonight."

Dawn nervously chuckled and said, "You know, I think I 'll pass on, you know, being dinner." Then she took off in the other direction as fast as she could. She knew she had little chance of outrunning them, especially on their turf, but she was going to try. She was _not_ going to be a meal without trying.

But her efforts proved to be futile. In just a few short seconds they caught up with her, one of the males getting in front while the other two stood behind. She looked at him as he bared his teeth and smiled. "Now now, no need to sweat up my dinner." As he was bringing his teeth toward Dawn's neck, he was stopped in his tracks, seemingly choking on something.

Three tendrils from the Witchblade found themselves sticking out at the top of his head, entering from under his chin. Another tendril wrapped itself around his neck and then quickly retracted, digging into the flesh and bone and taking its head off, turning the vampire into dust. The other two vampires looked in shock at what happened to their companion. Dawn turned around to look at the two remaining vampires. Her eyes were glowing red and then went back to their original color. She held up her now metal-covered right hand and let loose a stream of fire that turned them into ash.

* * *

"When are Dahlia, Frank, and Ralph getting back with their share?" asked, Becky, one of the more senior vampires in the nest asked.

"Should be gettin' back soon," Tommy replied.

"Well, they better get here soon or otherwise they'll be missing out on the next feast. Besides, I need something sweet when I watch the movie I got when I ate that street vendor."

They soon heard a huge thud, followed by another. All of the vampires there, seventeen in all, looked at the steel door and as soon as they did it broke open. There stood Dawn at the threshold, both arms sporting menacing claws. She smiled as she took in the sight.

In just under five minutes, Nottingham's problem had been solved.


	4. Chapter IV

Giles stumbled in late again, the haze from the alcohol wearing off. He had been trying to avoid Buffy for a long time and was working at it just fine. Dawn was seemingly engrossed in her internship even more, working later hours, so he wasn't expecting any words from her any time soon. The lobby was quiet and deserted. He would walk his way back up to his room and turn in, and the buzzed haze would dull his pain and lull him to sleep. He crept up to the stairs.

A light flickered on and a knife embedded itself into the wall inches away from Giles' face. He was barely fazed.

"We need to talk," Buffy said.

"I take it this won't wait until morning," Giles replied, smiling slightly.

"You got that right. This has got to stop, Giles."

"I'm perfectly fine, Buffy."

"Really, 'cuz that whiskey on your breath says you're not. You're stumbling in at all hours of the night, you're missing training sessions or showing up late. Illyria and I have had to pick up the slack."

"You're handling it just fine," he said.

"Maybe, but these girls need a Watcher with your experience to help them." She walked up to him and gently touched his shoulder. "We all know how you're feeling. Sara's as much a part of this group as anybody and to see her in that coma hurts me too. All the time we spent fighting when we shouldn't have been makes me regret not being the friend and ally she needed me to be. But we still have work to do; _you_ have work to do. And I can't have this team being led by an alcoholic."

Buffy looked Giles squarely in the eye. "So you either clean up, or I call London to have a new Watcher sent over."

Giles looked at her. The threat wasn't a threat. And he knew he would do the same thing in her position. She was right; there was still a fight out there and he needed to be on his best to help and prepare the Slayers.

Giles nodded and slowly walked upstairs.

* * *

Dawn was finishing analyzing a piece of ancient text for her paper. But inside, she was restless. Her feet tapped with nervous energy. She had slayed an entire nest of vampires, by herself, with no Slayer looking over her shoulder and critiquing her every move.

The moment fought those vamps with the Witchblade she almost felt like she was outside of herself, watching herself cut through their ranks like they were mere Thanksgiving turkeys.

The fear and the thrill. The anxiety and the exhilaration. The danger and the triumph. But she was no mere human doing her best against a stronger, tougher opponent. She finally felt what it was like to be a Slayer.

She wanted more. And more she got.

Over the next two months Dawn was under the tutelage of Nottingham. They made sure she operated far away from the usual patrol areas of the Slayers' watchful eye. And while she still trained with Buffy, she longed for the thrill of combat, reveling each time she was sent by Nottingham to handle an issue.

Buffy began to notice her personality changed a bit; Dawn became more confident, yet would neglect some of the niceties. It was the little things. The rush out of the door in the morning, the short phone conversations, the grab-and-rush breakfast. But there were other things, too. She had become more territorial. She could be short with some of the Slayers and her temper would flare up at odd times. And she always seemed restless, like she needed to expel some nervous energy.

And then there were the practice sessions. Buffy, naturally, had noticed Dawn improving greatly. Almost too much so, Buffy thought, until Dawn reassured her that it was the Witchblade's previous wielders skills and traits coming out. While that alleviated her concerns somewhat, she kept a watchful eye on her charge, not knowing of the secret benefactor of Dawn's burgeoning skills.

She left the museum to meet Nottingham for a new assignment. Things had been looking up and were going great. She was no longer the Slayer's kid sister; she was a Bladewielder, one in a long line of heroines. If Sara was out for the long haul, she knew she was going to be one of the go-to people in NYC. Maybe she'd even lead the Slayers. In the back of her mind she knew she was tempting fate thinking like that.

But she didn't care. She didn't just want to tempt fate... she wanted to dare it.

And fate would call her bluff tonight.

She journeyed to Nottingham's place and walked in a bold stride. The apprehension she felt two months ago was gone and replaced by an air of strength and confidence that she never experienced while training with Buffy.

"Mr. Nottingham..."

"Ms. Summers... are you ready for tonight's assignment?

"Yeah. What's going on tonight? Demon nest? Vamps?"

"A drug lab," Nottingham replied.

"Huh?"

"A drug lab," he repeated. "One that's manufacturing Onyx. Ever since Amy was taken out of the picture, the rest of the bosses have been trying to recover. But while they're trying to recuperate from Amy's attack, smaller groups have been taking advantage of the chaos. Some are manufacturing a drug called Onyx. This is one of the major secret facilities."

"I've heard of it," Dawn said.

"Then you know how dangerous it can be."

"But... the guys manufacturing it. Are they...?"

"Human? Yes, they are," Nottingham answered.

"Mr. Nottingham, you know I don't go after humans," Dawn stated adamantly. "Sara may have been somewhat more comfortable about it, but I'm not."

"Good," he replied. "Because all I want you to do is gather intel on their operation, see if you can discover their distributors. Once we have that, I can have my own team raid the facility and then go after the distributors."

Dawn slightly breathed a sigh of relief. Dusting a vamp was one thing, but going after a bunch of drug-dealing humans was a line she was unwilling to cross, despite the Witchblade's bloody history.

"You'll be able to enter here, in between guard changes," Nottingham stated as he pointed on the layout. "Grab any files that look necessary. Acquire the hard drive of the computer and leave quickly. My information states that they have not completed installation of security cameras in all locations, including the computer room. However, this information is good as of one week ago. Be on guard."

"No problem."

* * *

Clad in black, she approached building by rooftop. It was a small building, located a few blocks from New Empire Textiles, Amy's factory. It seemed logical; Nottingham mentioned that ever since Amy had been defeated, peddlers in Onyx tripled. And the problem would only increase as the crime bosses licked their wounds. Finding information on the distributors would allow Nottingham to make sure they were stopped before Onyx became a Dateline special.

The facility was partially underground, well-guarded and nearby an old factory. "Typical," Dawn thought. She could approach from the inside of the dilapidated factory and enter into the ventilation; she was thin enough to fit. If she made sure that no one caught her, this would be an easy gig. She shot the rappelling line from the factory onto the roof and glided down. She tore through the vent with her claws, the sound muffled by the rain starting to fall. She made her way through the shafts and, true to Nottingham's intel, the office was right where the he said it was. She looked through the vent. No one was present. Suddenly, two men came into the office.

"Make sure that new batch gets to the underground clubs in Queens," the first man said.

"They're the first on the list for new supply. The Python Club wants a piece of it, too," the second man replied.

"Tell them they'll have to wait three weeks. Ever since the mob war we're running short on supply and high on demand and everyone wants to make some quick money until things get reorganized."

"They won't like hearing that."

"Well that's just too bad..." the first man replied as they left the office. Dawn scanned the room again; no cameras set up, at least yet.

She sliced open the vent and went to the computer. Contrary to what most movies taught, hacking a system was more complicated than having some sweet piece of software. You had to know the system and the exploits of it and have the right tools to hack it. And even then, it was sometimes just a matter of manipulating people into giving you info you needed to get into a system. Dawn had none of those. And getting a program to crack a password would take more time than she wanted to be there. So ripping out the hard drive would be the best solution.

Slicing open the computer and grabbing the hard drive she ran back to the vent and started to crawl only to see the two men open the door to the office.

"I forgot... What the...?" They pulled out their guns and started shooting as Dawn moved out of their sight.

She was in trouble now. The plan had called to get out by doorway that led outside to a sewer. No doubt that entrance was guarded now. Well, she'd have to try it anyway.

She got to the section of the building near her designated exit, only to find guards waiting with assault rifles.

"Not good," she said to herself. She ran back toward the center of the building, toward the main production area. While Onyx itself wasn't combustible, some of the non-mystical chemicals used to produce and cut it were, and Dawn saw the drawback of a firefight. She tried to head out of the other exit until guards burst through. She ran and slid into one of the offices nearby under a hail of gunfire.

She looked around for an exit, huddling down as the wood behind her splintered from each bullet. She crawled to hide behind a metal table. As soon as she moved a bullet grazed her arm. She yelled out in pain. Suddenly, her eyes turned red.

The Witchblade covered hands in claws and she pointed them at her attackers, letting loose streams of fiery plasma. She just wanted them scared and out of the way, just long enough for her to get to the emergency exit. She kept letting loose the streams wildly. Suddenly an explosion rocked neared one of the places she hit. She had only a split second to react before the flames of the explosion reached her. The Witchblade crawled over her body quickly, encasing her lithe body in armor before being engulfed in flames.

The explosion blew out windows on the fourth floor of the building and brought the manufacturing area to rubble. Dawn's hand burst through the pile covering her. She removed some of the rubble out of the way, her face and hair covered in ash and dust. Her clothes were torn in too many places to count.

_The explosion... I caused it. I killed those men._

She had been wary of this mission from the get-go. And now her fears were confirmed. She saw a few of the burned and twisted bodies. She had killed them all. And all because of her recklessness. She was so eager to prove herself and now humans had died because of it. And the hard drive... it was damaged in the explosion. All her work, all her progress, and now she had failed Nottingham in a big way. She heard the police sirens and decided to make a speedy exit to tell Nottingham of the bad news.

* * *

It took her an hour to get back to Nottingham's place. She hesitated before opening the door to his private hall, not knowing how he would take the news. Knowing he would find out sooner or later she opened the door.

"You're back and..." He looked at her with a cautious eye. "What happened?" he demanded.

"I... they... they saw me," Dawn muttered out. "There was a firefight and..."

"And what?"

"There was an explosion," she sheepishly replied. "The manufacturing area was destroyed. I..."

"And the hard drive?" he quickly asked.

"It's here," she said as she brought it out. "It was severely damaged. I don't know how much you can get from it." She handed it to Nottingham, hoping the gesture would suffice.

He took the drive and eyed it carefully. In a flash, he threw it against the wall.

"This is nothing!" he yelled. "I ask you to accomplish one simple task and you manage to destroy the facility!"

"I tried to get out clean, but..."

A quick backhand met her face. Nottingham then grabbed her and moved her over in front of the mirror.

"I have trained you to do better than 'try'! I trained you to succeed, to prove yourself worthy of calling yourself a Bladewielder! Do you know what this will accomplish? Nothing. Any other Onyx producers will be on high alert. The distributors will be more cautious. And the police will be all over this." He turned her around and pushed her against a wall.

"This opportunity has been wasted because of your carelessness," he remarked, cutting her deeper than she had ever felt. "How did I ever believe that such a foolish young girl could measure up to the legacy of the Witchblade. Get out of my sight."

Dawn was almost brought to tears. She wanted so hard to prove herself. She was doing it, moving out from under Buffy's watchful and overbearing shadow. And just like that, the successes she had were washed away by one gigantic failure. She walked quickly toward the door. She stopped and looked at Nottingham.

"Mr. Nottingham..."

"Leave. Now." He turned away from her gaze.

And with that she left, shutting the door behind her, hanging her head in shame.

As soon as she left, Nottingham turned toward the door and smiled. He walked over to his desk and opened up the laptop. There, on the screen, was the video surveillance of the manufacturing facility, seconds before it exploded and the video feed was cut off.

The explosion had done its job.


	5. Chapter V

Her mind raced as she toiled over the restorative process of an ancient Akkadian object. _He hit me. He actually hit me._ Her blood boiled as she brushed the piece. It had been three days since Nottingham scolded her for the accident at the illegal Onyx facility. But the scolding was mild compared to the slap across her face. She was a lot of things, but she was no man's punching bag. Buffy taught her better than that.

After she had finished, she gathered her bag and left for his place, her mind a single-focused instrument of determination and anger as she rode the subway. When she got near his residence, close enough to ring the buzzer, her body tensed. Her stride was smooth and forceful. She walked right past Bernard, Nottingham's valet, with such swiftness that he barely had time for a greeting.

"Ms. Summers..."

"Shut up," she replied as she walked upstairs. She entered Nottingham's private chambers and saw him at his desk, a glass of wine adorning the table.

"Dawn, I..." he began.

He doubled over as the fist connected with his solar plexus. He then felt his body being lifted into the air and glide until it hit the floor. Next thing he knew, cold metal had been wrapped around his neck when he was pinned to the wall.

"If you ever, _ever_, touch me like that again..." she said.

"Forgive me, Dawn. I acted in a thoughtless rage. Kenneth Irons would treat me the same way and I regret that I brought that upon you. It seems even from the grave that Irons maintains his grip."

He saw faint red in her pupils as she held, only to dissipate as she loosened her grip. Inwardly, he smiled. She was coming along perfectly.

Dawn let go and Nottingham massaged his neck. "It happens again, and this arrangement is over. You understand?"

"I understand completely. With that being said, I have a mission for you."

"Good."

* * *

Buffy had been filled with dread. Over the past two months, she had been waiting for Sara Pezzini to wake up from her coma. Fate seemed to be mocking her, content to have Sara in a coma and the Witchblade attached to Dawn. Ever since it happened, Buffy had kept Dawn from engaging in the patrols. She had been worried about the pull of the Witchblade on her younger sister, and the intensity she saw in her fighting. It wasn't that she was intense, but it seemed like Dawn would fight less with her head and more out of desire to get out her frustrations and pent-up anger. Faith had done that, and Buffy knew all too well the results of that series of mishaps.

Nevertheless, she had to get her sister out there, knowing that sooner or later Dawn would decide she was better off working on her own than under Buffy's guidance. So she decided to include her in the night's patrol, hoping that any of the training Dawn had gone through would be used responsibly. When she told Dawn, the girl was enthusiastic, promising not to let Buffy down. The night had started out good enough; there was barely any activity in the four-woman training patrol to qualify as a lesson.

"This night still looks to be a bust," Monica stated.

"No doubt," Deirdre replied. "Sorry, Dawn. I thought this would be more exciting for you."

"It still could be," Buffy said. "Don't let your guard down just yet. We still have a few blocks to go."

"Come on, Buffy. We got one and he was barely out of the grave."

"Just shut up and focus. You never know when…"

And suddenly they saw them. Ten vamps in all, emerging from hidden location. Buffy had suspected the local vamps were trying as best as they could to avoid the patrols after Amy had been dealt with, and figured they were moving underground more. Now she had her suspicions confirmed.

"Alright, I count ten vamps and…" she began to say when five more came down the drab alley.

"Five more coming," Dawn remarked.

"Okay, guys. Stay tight and don't let them surround us. Make sure you…" she was cut off by Dawn leaping into the air, fully decked out in the Witchblade's armor and slicing the head off of a one of the vamps. Buffy barely had time to react before getting into the fray.

"Dawn, watch Deirdre's back!" she yelled. But Dawn was not even registering Buffy's voice. She tore through the vamps as the rest of the Slayers battled on.

To call it a massacre was an insult to the term. Dawn was a singular force. Claws dug into screaming flesh as tendrils flailed about and tore limbs and severed heads. But a few of them got through her vicious offense. Deirdre battled two of them and was holding her own quite well. But things changed when Dawn began to use her energy blasts. She sets one of her attackers on fire. He didn't immediately turn to ash, his clothing shielding his flesh from the flames.

In its panic, he barreled into Deirdre and her two vamps. The two vamps jumped to of the way and the flaming vamp tackled Deirdre. The skin on her hands and arms began to burn as she screamed. Finally, when the vamp turned to dust, her two attackers saw their moment and pounced on their injured prey.

"Deirdre," Buffy yelled out. She staked one of her two attackers and threw the other one into a garbage bin. Buffy tackled one of the two vamps while Monica was kept busy with her attackers. Dawn heard Deidre cry out and looked in her direction. She quickly extended a tendril and ran him through. She pulled him toward her and clotheslined him with her claws, severing his head and turning him to dust.

Buffy staked her vamp and ran toward Monica to finish off the ones Monica had left. After they were done, Buffy looked at Dawn as she finished off her remaining two. She had a look in her eye. It was more than exhilaration; it was almost regret, regret that the fighting was over. She looked like a predator in sorrow that her meal was over and ultimately unsatisfying. Buffy stormed over to her.

"Have you lost your mind!" Buffy yelled.

"What are you talking about?"

"You were supposed to cover Deirdre! Instead you went off all half-cocked!"

"And I got the job done!" Dawn yelled back.

"At the expense of one of your own. And that fire thing? Deirdre got burned because of it."

Dawn looked at Deirdre. While the burns were not horrible, it would put her out of commission for a little bit.

"She'll be fine. We're all still alive," she said.

"That's not the point, Dawn! You're too reckless!" Buffy yelled.

"I got the job _done_!" Dawn yelled back.

"That's it! You're done patrolling."

"Yeah, right. Like you could stop me." Dawn started to walk away when Buffy grabbed her arm.

"I said you're done," Buffy restated sternly.

"Take your hands off of me, Buffy." Dawn stared at her older sister. And for a split-second, Buffy was truly scared. Not for herself, but for what Dawn was becoming. She let go and saw as her younger sibling slowly disappeared down the alley.

"What do we do now, Buff?" Monica asked.

"We treat Deirdre's burns first. I'll handle my sister."

* * *

Illyria was not enjoying the walk. Nor was she particular to going as the person who originally inhabited her body: the bookish Winifred Burkle. She and her charge, Stacy, had finished their patrol and now it was time to go home. Ever since the island battle she had felt protective of the young girl. Giles noticed it, when he wasn't in a drunken stupor, and told Illyria that she seemed to be a mother-daughter bond with the girl. Illyria was dismissive; Stacy was her pupil, someone who she would train and fashion to be a lethal instrument. Any _perceived_ affection was merely the problem of faulty human awareness. Or so she was convincing herself. The more she hung out with the girl, though, the more she desired to protect her. Though she had told no one, the death of Wesley was still raw and she never wanted that to happen to Stacy.

Nevertheless, all she wanted to do tonight was go home. She tired of the downtown Manhattan scene, the obscene lights and deafening sounds. The sounds were nothing like what she heard in her time, the screaming of foes beneath her armies' feet. She much preferred those sounds to these.

"Come on, we're supposed to meet up with the rest of the gang in 10 minutes," Stacy remarked.

"We should be heading home," Illyria stated.

"It's Friday night, Illy." Illyria stared at Stacy. "Sorry. _Illyria_, Ruler of the Incredibly Boring."

"You should be practicing your skills, not gallivanting around participating in meaningless distractions."

"And these meaningless distractions keep us from going insane," Stacy replied. "Come on, we'll have fun. We'll just… Hey, there's Dawn. Dawn!"

Illyria looked at Dawn, who didn't seem to notice them as she stormed down the street. Illyria saw the look on her face; it was the face of a warrior, looking for battle. Meaningless distractions were not on her agenda tonight.

"Daw…" Stacy began before Illyria grabbed her.

"She is not hearing us. She is on the warpath, looking for battle. I know that look. We must follow her."

"What for? You just want in on the action, huh?" Stacy remarked in disdain.

Illyria smirked. And Stacy let out a sigh. Another Friday night was toast.

They followed her down to the subway and as she got into one of the cars. Now things were getting weird. Stacy wasn't so sure it was a battle they were going to more than just a wild goose chase, with Dawn being the goose. They got off of the subway and followed her down the street until she turned down an alley. They turned down the alley as well, but caught no sight of her.

"Where'd she go?" Stacy asked.

Suddenly, Dawn appeared right behind them from above and grabbed Stacy by the neck, pinning her against the wall.

"Why are you following me, Stacy?"

"Dawn, what's your problem?"

"Let go of her," Illyria demanded. Dawn complied.

"Illyria thought you were going to a fight tonight. She wanted in. But all we've seen you do is storm down the street like you were ready to tear everyone apart."

"Go home," Dawn promptly said.

"Why are you over here?" Stacy asked. "There's not much action down here."

"Stop following me, Stacy."

Stacy was taken aback. Dawn had been acting weird ever since she got the Witchblade, but she had always been more on the sweet side. This was unlike her.

"Dawn, if there's a problem…"

Dawn shot of a claw toward Stacy's face. "I said go home."

Illyria was livid. Two things were wrong with this picture: Dawn was threatening an ally and she was threatening Illyria's charge. None of those were acceptable to her.

"Threaten her again and you'll deal with me," Illyria coldly stated. Dawn looked at her and Illyria saw red flash in Dawn's eyes for a split-second. Few would have picked it up, but, then again, few were her.

Dawn stared at Illyria and then seemed to calm herself. She looked at Stacy. "I'm sorry, Stacy. I just need to be out and about. I can take care of myself."

"I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about the poor bastards who piss you off. Hopefully, they won't be human or you might threaten them, too," Stacy bitterly remarked.

"Just don't tell Buffy you saw me."

"Why not?" Illyria asked.

"Yeah. You just threatened me, Dawn. Last time I checked that wasn't healthy behavior and Buffy'll want to know about it."

"I'm working things out," Dawn replied desperately. "Just give me some time and I'll fill you in. Okay? Please?"

"Fine," Stacy said. "But if you get hurt…"

"I won't. I'm doing something that'll help us all out. I just need some time."

"Whatever," Stacy replied. "Just take care of yourself." Dawn smiled and walked away as Stacy and Illyria were left in the alley alone.

"Do you believe her?" Illyria asked.

"You kiddin'? Whatever it is, she's hiding it from Buffy. Which means she knows the boss won't approve."

"We could try and follow her again, but I think the Witchblade sensed us," Illyria reasoned.

"I know a couple of guys who could tail her, figure out where she's going. They're better at it than I am."

"Employ them," Illyria stated. "And make sure we have answers soon."


	6. Chapter VI

Jake brooded over the loose set of information he had. His cases, though not piling on his desk, were starting to gather. But he wasn't focused on them just yet. No, it was the enigma he couldn't quite solve. He wasn't obsessed with Buffy Summers; that wasn't it. He was still a homicide detective, doing his duty and fighting for those whose voices would not be heard because someone who didn't value their lives. No, he wasn't obsessed with Buffy Summers, but he was highly suspicious. His partner of the last few years gets into a coma all because of her involvement with this Buffy, an unremarkable person by normal standards.

He had seen her police records. Though her town of Sunnydale had inexplicably sunk into the earth, the county in which she had lived still had them. He had seen them, as well as her LA record. She hadn't racked up the rap sheet of any of the suspects he normally dealt with, but he was still taken aback by the amount of trouble she got into as a teenager. Still, though, that didn't necessarily explain what she was involved in that it would cause Sara to go into a coma.

Then there was the matter of Kate, his new partner. Not one, but two partners of his were keeping big secrets from him, both concerning one Buffy Summers. This petite woman was at the center of it all, for some reason, and Jake was perplexed. He thought back to what Kate had said, that when she got involved with Buffy's ex, she found out about things that went "way beyond her job description". Not only was it ominous and cryptic, but downright disturbing. He had known Kate a bit and had heard about how she had gotten into weird cases, cases that were almost 'X-Files' fodder.

Then he remembered something, something in the deep recesses of his memory. It was years ago. He had been paired with a detective who wanted him on a case, to which Pez strenuously objected. Though he was excited at first to be working with the guy, it turned out that the guy was as dirty as they came. He robbed some criminals of their drug money and pinned it on Jake, drugging him and leaving him for dead. The pair had later been captured by the crooks and interrogated. In his drug-induced haze, he swore he saw Pezzini taking out the criminals like they were nothing, like she was some kind of superhero. When he asked her about it, she brushed it off as some hallucination of his.

He began to think about it more seriously. Given all he was dealing with, he was sincerely starting to doubt that the whole episode was a hallucination. He was piecing it together. If Sara was nearly impossible feats that night, then whatever abilities she had may have been directly related to her coma and to Buffy. It was time to get answers.

* * *

Dawn was starting to believe her luck was running out. There was the fiasco with the patrol night with Buffy and, just recently, her heated encounter with Stacy and Illyria. She had begged them not to tell Buffy about where she was. They didn't know where she was going, but sooner or later they would spill her whereabouts and she would have no end of trouble. It would only be a matter of time then before they were following her and practically interrogating her. She looked in her mirror as she pondered the likelihood of that scenario.

"_But why should you care? You're not doing anything wrong,"_ Dawn's reflection remarked.

"Exactly," Dawn said.

"_You're becoming a better fighter, a better… 'Slayer'._

"And why shouldn't I? I'm more powerful than any Slayer. Buffy should be welcoming my help with open arms. Is it my fault I was given such an awesome gift?"

"_Ingrates, all of them. You get to change the world in a way they never could."_

"And sooner or later, they'll understand what I'm trying to do, what I was truly born to do."

Tina had been walking through the hall to put some toilet paper in some of the bathrooms when she heard Dawn in her room. She put her ear to the door and it almost sounded like... like she was talking to herself. Hesitantly, Tina knocked on the door.

"Dawn, are you okay?"

Dawn opened the door and stared at the girl intensely, and Tina began to squirm under her gaze.

_Insolent child. You don't even understand how weak you truly are, what power truly is until…_

"Dawn?"

Dawn snapped out of it. "Sorry, Tina. I was rehearsing what I'd say to Dr. Simmons. There's this piece I wanted to work on but I'm not sure if he'd think I'm up to the task. Just trying to make my case."

"Oh… okay. Just… just thought I'd ask," Tina replied sheepishly.

"No problem. I'll talk to you tomorrow." She abruptly closed the door and Tina was left somewhat perplexed standing in front of the door.

Dawn's heart was racing and she leaned against the door. _They need to understand. I'll make them understand._

* * *

"Giles, we need to talk," Buffy said as Giles was working with one of the girls with the quarterstaff.

"Buffy, I told that I'm perfectly…"

"No," she said as she looked at the girl. She whispered to Giles. "It's about Dawn."

"Yes, I'd heard about the patrol the other night."

"Well, I'm trying to figure out why she's acting the way she is. Ever since then she's been more distant and she hasn't spoken to me once."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yes," Giles remarked. "That's why I've been working on a way to get the Witchblade from her, if necessary. From what I've researched, it can bring out undesirable personality traits, unless one is strong enough to fight it. However, because of Dawn's… special nature… there might be some side effect that no one could have foreseen. Let's try and talk to her first. I don't want to scare her off… or worse."

"And if she isn't in a talkative mood?" Buffy inquired.

"Then we move on to Plan B," Giles responded.

"Which is…?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out."

"Not making me feel any better, Giles."

* * *

Outside of the base, a young man was standing out in an alley about a block away with a video camera. He had been, boringly, observing people going to and fro from the place. While the gig was crappy, the fact that he had to watch pretty girls all day made things a little tolerable. He had been there since early afternoon, waiting for a particular girl, one Dawn Summers, to emerge from the place. From what he was seeing, the girl who supposedly lived there didn't seem to live there at all.

He was about to call the night a wash until someone called him out.

"What are you doing, kid?"

He turned around and found himself face-to-face with a cop. Detective McCartey to be exact.

"Me?" he nervously replied.

"No, the other guy holding the camera."

"Look, man, I ain't doing nothing wrong."

"Well, it kinda looks like you're being a peeping Tom. So I'll ask again: what are you doing here?" Jake asked.

"Look, someone paid me to track some girl, that's it."

"Who paid you?"

"A girl I knew awhile back: Stacy Keller."

"And who did she pay you to track?"

"Some chick named Dawn Summers. Here's her picture." He handed Jake a photo of her. It was Buffy's sister alright.

"Why'd this Stacy ask you to track this girl?"

"I don't know. Said it was personal. Thought maybe she was involved in something shady. Stacy lives with her in there but says the girl's been acting weird lately."

Jake looked at the target location. So this Stacy was involved with Buffy and was worried about Buffy's sister. Jake was there to follow Buffy; he wasn't concerned about her sister, although it seemed like he would have to be sooner or later. He made a mental note to deal with it later. He looked back at the young man.

"What's your name?"

"Desmond Parles, but people call me Dez," the man replied.

"Look, Dez, I want you to do something for me: keep filming and you report what you find to me."

"Come on, man…"

"Do it, or I start hounding you. Technically, I can't charge you with anything, but I can certainly make your life difficult. All you have to do is tell me what you saw and that's it."

Dez let out a loud sigh. Stacy's little project just made him a cop-magnet. Last time he was going to do her any favors.

"Okay, man, you win."

"Good. And don't breathe a word of this to anybody, even Stacy." Jake left, intending to return to his primary task: tailing Buffy.

* * *

Buffy left the building, intently focusing on patrolling. It helped when she needed to clear her head. She and Giles both agreed that something needed to be done about Dawn. The question was what. They barely saw the girl over the past few weeks. Based on what Buffy had seen that patrol night, Dawn was already taking it upon herself to patrol on her own. Her skills were formidable, no doubt, but she cared nothing for her comrades when she was out there, which wasn't like Dawn in the least.

In some strange way, Buffy was proud that her sister was strong enough to take on some vamps by herself, but she knew that even the best of skill only got you so far. Sometimes you had to know when you were in over your head, to know when to make a hasty retreat and, by the way Dawn was acting, it seemed like she would rather go down fighting than regroup. Whatever the Witchblade was doing, it was making her reckless and potentially unstable. Unless she could help her sister, she knew that things would only get worse.

Jake had been following Buffy for awhile. It seemed like she was going about to random places, nothing of particular note. It'd been about an hour and a half and he was starting to wonder whether he was wrong about her. It was then she journeyed down an alley. He peered around the corner to see where she went. She had already been halfway down before he made his way to the entrance. He heard sounds of an altercation going on and ran to its source. Turning the corner he saw Buffy fighting someone, only a light above them illuminating the scene. He pulled out his weapon and was about to try and stop the fight when he saw who she was fighting… or rather, _what_ she was fighting.

The figure had noticed him briefly and was distracted when Buffy punched him in the face and pulled out her stake. She plunged it into his chest.

"No!" Jake yelled out.

The figure immediately began to whither into dust as Buffy turned around and saw the man who had been following her.

"Crap," she muttered as she looked at a stunned and bewildered Detective McCartey. Seeing his confusion she took advantage of the moment and sprinted down the alley.

"Freeze, Buffy!" She didn't comply. Despite his animosity toward her, he didn't plan on shooting her, even as he pointed his piece at her. He only wanted to detain her to have her explain what he just saw.

Seeing that there was no point in giving chase, he went over to the spot where the disfigured… thing had turned to dust. He touched the ground where the dust was and felt it with his fingers.

If there was ever a night he needed a drink, this was one of them.

Jake wandered around the city for a bit before stopping at a small flat. He slowly walked up to the door, not knowing what to make of his night. Some of it was a blur and none of it made any sense. As he stood in front of the door to the flat, he hesitated, then rang the doorbell. The door opened.

"Jake? What's up?"

"Kate… I, uh… you said that if I pursued this thing with Buffy, I could talk to you when I needed to. Well… I need to talk to you."

She looked into his eyes. She had seen that look before; she _wore_ that look before.

"Whiskey?" she asked.

"If you got it."

She gave him a small, sympathetic smile. "Come on in, Jake."


End file.
